Impurities
by Velerus
Summary: You were there. You ran your hands through cracked and shattered remains, just as I did. You fought and killed for what you thought was right, just as I did. We are of a kind. A calm in the storm, strength where there is only despair. But, how often do you think a gem can pull someone back from the brink before falling herself?
1. They're Only Human

Hm. Yes, this would do quite nicely.

Perhaps a bit bigger than strictly needed, but it was better to have more space than you needed than less that you wanted. Perhaps the boys could set up some sort of...desert tray...drumset thing?

She shrugged, they'd figure it out.

It was scenic at least, a hole in the side led out to a hill overlooking a stretch of beach. It was a bit...dirty, littered with filth from previous festivities, moonlight bounced off tossed away cans and the little bugs carried away bits of rotted food. Luminescent tubes and rings were scattered here and there, forgotten, glowing dully in the night while the roar of water crashing into the shore filled the air; she noticed a solitary shoe riding the tide off and onto the sand and laughed.

When they'd first set eyes on their new home, Matthew had called it a catastrophe.

Jean had taken one look and called it perfection.

She'd had no opinion. She said it suited their needs, at least while it was still warm, and there was space for all their things. It would need to be repaired and thoroughly cleaned if they wanted customers and that would take at least two years, which was being very optimistic.

He'd turned to her, his big, toothy, smile appearing on his face, and said 'Ah, come on, you two have gotta think positive. Yeah, it's ugly, but, hey, people must come here a lot to get it this disgusting. Yeah, it's mostly broken and long abandoned, but no one was rushing to take a hammer to it. It's already loved, we just hafta be the people to show it a little respect!'

She wondered how much love went into throwing a shoe into the ocean? Another laugh, not that it mattered, she'd narrowed down the repair time to the better part of a year regardless. They'd be cutting corners, leaving things broken where they could be healed, but that was, apparently, "its charm".

Matthew had been skeptical, but accepted it on the condition that they, at least, find some way to patch up the holes; he didn't want to freeze to death in his sleep. The estimates for _those_ repairs was what bumped the time frame up to a year.

They were both asleep now, nestled against each other in the darkest corner they could find, Matthew having retrieved the sleeping bags a bit before the sun fully sank under the horizon. They had drifted off to talk of the wondrous things they would do with their new business. They marveled at lights that hadn't been lit yet, throngs of people who hadn't arrived, and a beat that they could only hear in their heads until they finally started to drift.

It was to be expected after hours of being cramped together in the cockpit of a U-haul; she'd been left alone upon the grassy hill, with just her thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean.

She stood from her perch and strode on the mounds edge, the warehouse receding from her vision until the sleep little hamlet in the background came into the fore. She'd resided in more impressive places calling themselves a metropolis, but she'd been in hovels as well and this place was not that.

Beach City.

She spun on her heel and stared upwards at the Tower Beacon that resided atop a much grander hill, unlit and abandoned yet as watchful...and as loved as it has always been.

Yes, this place would do nicely.

She settled onto the grass once more, the roar of the ocean filling her ears.

The boys could die contented here.

Oh, the sky was starting to brighten.

Time to get to work.


	2. New In Town (Pt 1)

It had been nearly a week since they'd bought that old warehouse on the edge of town, a week that was mostly spent planning and prepping. And cleaning, lots and lots of cleaning. Him and Matty actually had to step back and breathe for a while, they were working so hard. Well, mostly him and not exactly by choice, but Jade had given him a look that didn't leave room for argument.

He'd gotten antsy. Exploring the town wasn't a priority in the slightest. It still wasn't, but Matthew had been wanting to see the sights for a while and Jade would know if they didn't do _something..._tourist-y. So off they went to on the grand tour of Beach City.

Matty brought his KODAK digital camera and he brought his sunny disposition and keen awareness of just how long they'd been away from the warehouse at any given moment. It was a magical time.

It had been about an hour since then, and they'd explored about a quarter of the little hamlet; he'd admit the carnival and arcade were cool and they'd definitely be stopping by that doughnut shop later, but it was all common fare. Beach City was like every other seaside town he'd been too. Clear crystal water, nice-looking beaches, a rickety looking pier, and quirky stores and attractions to draw in tourists and their money.

Kind of quiet though; it seemed like the kind of place an old soldier would settle down to fish and tell stories to curious children. He'd wondered what kind of nightlife a peaceful place like this could have. Most of the entertainment seemed like something a local would get bored of pretty quickly and there was only so much you could do at a beach.

Hm...no.

He refused to regret settling down so abruptly, but he lamented the inevitable stretches of dullness that would follow. Even now, sitting at an open air cafe, his brother clicking through his photos and taking occasional sips of his lemonade, and him nursing a bowl of fruit and some water, cooling under the shadow of a table mounted umbrella, he wanted nothing more than to be at his warehouse. Squeezing greatness out every broken brick and cracked window.

Gah, okay, that had to be enough, "Hey Matty,"

Matthew looked up, brushing a lock of curly brunette hair away from his eyes, "Huh? What's up?"

He pointed his spoon at his brothers camera "Your photos turn out alright? You were kinda rapid-firing for a while, you know?"

"Oh, uh, totally, yeah they turned out great! Wanna see?" He held out his camera, beaming with pride. Jean took it, wrapping its leather cord around his fingers, "Place kind of, uh, reminds me of Chincoteague, except, you know, no horses."

He ate another spoonful of his fruit salad, idly flipping through the album.

One of the beach, three seagulls flapping over head.

A few exterior and interior shots of the warehouse.

A shot of Jade leaving the warehouse out of the hole in the wall, the early morning sunlight casting her in silhouette.

Quite a few at the carnival, mostly different angled shots of the Ferris wheel, and of him checking out a few of the stalls.

A few of their trek down the boardwalk, he could just see the various stores peeking into the shot from the edges until the angle shifted left to catch more of the ocean.

Dozens of pictures in just a few short hours, it was like Matt thought it was his job or something. He glanced at the top right of the screen and his eyes widened, the picture he had stopped on, a wave leaping out of the ocean, shimmering in the sunlight, was number 34 out of 369.

"Jeez, Matty, when's the last time ya emptied this thing?" He says, untangling the cord from his fingers and holding it out.

Matthew's nose wrinkles, head tipping to the side, as he takes "What?" He says, staring at the small screen.

"369 pics? Not all of here I hope, this place ain't that interesting."

"Oh, heh, umm, these are mostly, probably just the other towns..." His brow furrowed and his mouth shrank until it was one narrow line.

"You alright, Matt?"

"Yeah, yeah it's just...let's, uh...let's head back to the warehouse." He pushes back his chair and rises, stowing his camera in back pocket.

Oh, thank god, "No more exploring the great Beach City? We're probl'y not coming back out anytime soon."

"Town's not going anywhere, I guess. Let me just, uh, head inside real quick, gotta use the bathroom."

"Sure, man, hurry back,"

"Yeah," He starts for the cafe entrance but pauses, the toe of his left shoe just barely off the ground. Matt turns back towards him, his face creasing in concern, "Oh, are you...gonna be okay out here, Jean?" The question is drawn out and vague, but he could understand the meaning behind it real easy.

He rolls his eyes, "Yes Matthew, unless you plan on causing a flood," A gesture outwards to the sun bathed beaches, the blue dyed sky, and the gently tumbling ocean, "I think I can hang in there for a couple of minutes. Go do your thing."

He turned away as Matthew stammered out an apology, crossing his arms and gazing out at the boats, dirty with ocean scum, bobbing in the sea. He heard the bell above the cafe door jingle later and heaved a sigh. He'd felt his brother linger there for a moment, his worried eyes pinned to his back, like he was a fragile piece of china.

Well..._still_ a fragile piece of china. He grunted and shook his head.

Whatever.

He knew the concern came from a good place, he knew, and he was glad for it, but he didn't need his hand held every second of everyday. Especially not with vivid sunlight beaming down on him and people milling about the boardwalk, snatches of their conversations being carried to his ear by the salty ocean air.

He was fine. Better than ever, actually, since they'd bought the-

"-Warehouse!" Huh?

He glanced around, ears perked, head pulled forward as he spied several people walking along the path.

"Relax...Cream...other..."

"...Ragging on that guy...days."

He twisted his head to the right just as three people stepped out from the alley between the cafe and the neighboring building. They looked around his age, maybe? And they were all taking sips out of styrofoam restaurant cups.

"No one's ever run away in fear when they see us guys, it's messing with my zen. How do warlords handle the stress?" exclaimed the tallest in the group, a pale boy wearing a blue hoodie and orange track pants. His long, angled face was creased with emotion, his eyes glaring ahead as he sipped from his drink.

The girl in the group, dark skinned in a midriff baring shirt, shorts, and with dinner plate earrings hanging from her head, rolled her eyes, "I doubt they worry so much about it. So the guys avoiding us, whatever, it's not like we'll never see him again. We _know_ he's staying in the warehouse and this dinky city's too small for anyone to be 'lost forever', relax."

Huh, kinda sounds like they're talking about...

"Yeah. If you can't go to him, let him come to you. Oldest trick in the book," the last one says calmly, expression indecipherable behind his sunglasses. Combined with his size-too-big shirt, wrinkled jeans, and blue Velcro Converses, he gave off a distinct air of not really caring.

Track pants sighs, "I guess..."

Jean watched the three stroll towards the cafe out of the corner of his eye, keeping careful tabs on the conversation. They were definitely talking about Matt, _he_ sure didn't know them and Jade wasn't the type to "run away in fear" from anything, especially a bunch of teenagers. Where as Matthew...

_ding_

He turns. Speak of the devil.

"Alright, lets head back, I think I've got enough photos for today anyway."

"Awesome," Jean pushes off the table, stretching his arms back until they pop, "I've had just about enough sun for today, hopefully for the next couple weeks."

"You and Jade really shouldn't be cooped up inside for days at a time, it's not healthy."

"Eh, the outside only ages you. Or gets you bitten by bugs. Or attacked by bears, seriously Mother Nature is not on our side." He started to move away, then stopped, turning again to look at his brother, "Oh, by the way."

"Yeah?"

He swiveled upper body and pointed a hand up the boardwalk, towards the teens, "I _think_ those three were looking for you? They were talkin' about the warehouse, mmmaybe they could be future cli-"

He stopped, startled by the utter terror that had stricken his brothers face. Mouth agape, eyes opened to their limits, skin flushed sickly pale, you'd think he'd just seen the people destined to murder him.

"Mat-?" That was a far as Jean got before Matthew, sneaker scraping pivoted audibly on the wooden boards, and _sprinted_ in the opposite direction. The other boy watched his brothers retreat until he skidded around a corner and disappeared.

Silence.

Jean's arm lowered, flopping against his side for a moment before he stuffed his hands into his pocket and breathed out a puff air. He rocked back and forth on his heels and turned his head to gaze up the boardwalk at the three teenagers stopped in their tracks, the only sound from any of them being Shades sipping from his cup.

The sunglasses made it hard to tell whether or not _he_ was staring but his two friends definitely were.

He waved a hand, "Hey."

"Yo."

"...What's up?"

"...Hi."


End file.
